


The Longest Day of Their Lives

by Chazzam



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chazzam/pseuds/Chazzam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Shiftings, but can be read as a stand-alone fic.  Written during season 2.  </p><p>The day after The Kiss in Original Songs feels like it's never going to end, and our boys are going a wee bit crazy waiting to see each other again. This is a serious FLUFF-o-rama, with a bit of humor thrown in for kicks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Longest Day of Their Lives

It was the longest day of their lives.

After they broke apart in the coffee shop, eyes shining and cheeks blazing, they pretty much had to run to get to class on time.

They had arrived in separate cars, and their first classes of the day were on the opposite ends of campus. So the day loomed heavy and thick, measured not by hours or classes, but by  _How Long Until I Get To See Him Again._

It wasn't as if they'd never measured their days this way. But it had been subtler. They had had to pretend they weren't doing it, and the energy that went into the  _Just Friends_  act always detracted slightly from the excitement of being together.

But now that wall had crumbled. Now they could touch and stare without getting flustered and looking away. Or if they did get flustered and look away they could look back, smiling, not pretending that it didn't mean what it did.

They could seek out opportunities to kiss. They could flirt without pretending it was anything else.

It was the longest day of their lives.

Blaine's first class was P.E., so he couldn't even send Kurt stealthy texts. Today's activity was a good old-fashioned round of Sadist's Delight, otherwise known as dodge ball.

Blaine got hit. A lot.

Usually, his reflexes were pretty fast. Usually, being quick and sort of small, he actually kind of  _owned_  their weekly games of dodge ball. But today, all he could do was think about Kurt's lips. Kurt's tongue. Kurt's fingers interlaced with his. Kurt's hand cupping his cheek and the back of his neck. Kurt's gorgeous little whimper when Blaine sucked a hickey into that spot just above his collar bone, barely low enough to be concealed by his Dalton dress shirt.

Blaine didn't actually mind getting hit, because it meant he got to sit out the rest of the game and daydream about Kurt until it was time for another round. And then he would get hit again, and dreamily wander off to the sidelines.

"Dude, are you okay?" his friend Nate asked, looking concerned, as Blaine stared off into the distance.

"Mmmmm," Blaine murmured, and smiled deep and broad. "I'm...fantastic."

Nate probably said something else, but Blaine didn't exactly catch it. Because Kurt's lips. Kurt's eyes. Kurt's arms. Kurt's skin. Kurt's voice. Kurt's...Kurt's everything.

_Kurt._

It was seriously the longest freaking day of their entire lives.

Kurt sat in History class, gazing at the frozen clock on the wall, chin in his hand, and everything was Blaine. Or more accurately, everything _wasn't_  Blaine. Because the lack of Blaine was all he could really perceive on a sensory level. So on a visceral level, he drenched himself in Blaine. The way Blaine looked. The way Blaine tasted. The way Blaine  _felt._

Blaine was on this campus. He actually was. He was so close it  _ached,_  because he wasn't close enough to see.

Kurt sent Blaine a text under his desk, but then remembered that Blaine had P.E. first period and probably wouldn't get it for awhile.

Kurt sighed.

A little too loudly.

Several heads turned his way, and his teacher gave him a stern look and pointedly asked him a question from the reading he hadn't gotten around to the night before.

Kurt was pretty sure he managed to mutter something kind of on the right track, because he wasn't asked to come speak to her after class or, worse yet, to report for detention.

Because if he got detention, he would have to wait even longer to kiss Blaine again.

That thought caught his attention, and he straightened up in his chair and forced himself to at least  _look_  like he was concentrating while the minute hand on that horrible clock oozed along at the speed of glass.

Kurt had never wanted to break an object so badly before in his life.

Seriously. The longest day. EVER.

Blaine got Kurt's text during second period, and tried not to grin like an idiot. All it said was:

_I wish we were practicing right now._

Blaine glanced around quickly, and then sent a reply when the coast appeared clear.

_Me too. I think we should schedule a longer session for this afternoon. We didn't get nearly enough practice in yesterday._

_True. Or this morning, for that matter._

_I miss you._

_It's only 9:45 and I feel like this day has lasted a month._

_More like a year._

_I miss you too._

Blaine abruptly put his phone away when he almost got caught, because he really could  _not_ get detention today.

It was the longest day of their entire lives.

Kurt's heart pounded so hard he thought he was drowning out his English teacher when he got Blaine's reply text. He spent all of second period glancing around the room nervously and texting with Blaine. When Blaine stopped replying, he decided he should probably go back to his earlier goal of avoiding detention and pretending to pay attention.

The clock in English class was just as much a creature of pure evil as the one in History. Kurt hated it with a fiery passion.

Between second and third period, they crossed paths in the hall. Each boy stood out in bold color and sharp relief against a gray background of every other Dalton student alive. Their eyes locked, and they smiled so hard it was a wonder they didn't sprain something, and their knuckles brushed briefly as they passed each other.

"Hey." The tone was both shy and excited.

"Hey." Filled with barely concealed longing.

And for a small moment, the day seemed a little less long.

After third period was lunch, and both boys bolted from their seats at the first possible moment.

Kurt was waiting for Blaine outside the lunch room.

"Hi." He was blushing furiously, and kept raising his eyes to Blaine and then lowering them like it was  _Just All Too Much_ , and then gazing up through long lashes, and Blaine could hardly stand it.

"I think I left something in my car," said Blaine abruptly.

Kurt's expression faltered.

"Will..." Blaine cleared his throat and tried not to fidget. "Will you help me look?"

The expression on Kurt's face was enough to make the sun itself look like a black hole.

They all but ran to Blaine's car, Blaine sliding into the back seat and pulling Kurt in beside him.

They looked at each other.

They smiled.

They laughed, a little self-consciously.

And then they flew together like magnets.

Kurt unbuttoned Blaine's blazer and slid it off his shoulders, and Blaine did likewise to Kurt. They clung to one another in much the same way that one might cling to a life raft, and their lips were simply fused. Blaine pushed Kurt back into the seat, his tongue sliding into Kurt's mouth and tracing Kurt's tongue slowly. Kurt caught Blaine's bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently. They tried as many different ways to kiss as their minds could conceive and their mouths could manage.

Kurt moved his way down to Blaine's neck, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his collar.

"I can't believe we haven't been doing this all along," Blaine murmured. "We could have been doing this for months."

"Your fault, not mine," Kurt mumbled against the flesh of Blaine's throat.

Blaine sighed with a mixture of pleasure and regret. "Yeah...well, I suppose I have a lot of lost time to make up for."

Kurt pulled back and looked Blaine straight in the eye.

"That you do," he said, falling against Blaine's lips again.

The alarm on Blaine's phone went off far too soon, signaling ten minutes until they had to go back to class.

Kurt groaned. "I hate clocks."

Blaine laughed. "Um, it's actually a phone, Kurt."

"Yes, but it's  _housing_  a clock, and that clock is ruining my life right now."

"Mine too," Blaine conceded.

They arrived at their respective classes on time, looking only slightly like they'd spent the lunch hour making out in the back seat of a car.

Wes just barely managed to stop Blaine from causing an explosion in Chemistry.

"What is  _with_  you today?" He asked with an arched eyebrow, taking in Blaine's dazed expression and uncharacteristically rumpled hair.

"I didn't get much sleep," Blaine muttered, staring at the clock.

It was the longest day of their lives.

Kurt felt a little lightheaded in P.E., and he wasn't sure if it was more due to having missed lunch, or what he had missed lunch  _for._  Today they were running laps, which was actually kind of nice because it gave him the opportunity to just zone out and think about Blaine.

It did, however, have the unfortunate side effect of making him the slowest person in the class, The instructor repeatedly bellowing for him to Pick Up The Pace and Haul Ass. Which was a bit of a daydream killer.

But not for long. Never for long. Because as soon as his teacher's voice faded, his inner world was flooded with hazel eyes and olive skin and incredibly full lips that actually managed to feel better than he had ever imagined.

Because he had imagined. Boy, had he imagined.

But now he was no longer imagining. Now he was  _remembering._

And not only that, but now he was remembering the hints of soft skin and hard muscle that his fingers had glimpsed the barest whisper of through Blaine's thin cotton uniform shirt...

"Come on, Hummel, let's  _move!_  You got lead in your shoes or something today?"

It was the longest day ever in the history of their young lives.

The last period of the day was Activities period, which for Kurt and Blaine meant Warblers rehearsal. Blaine got there first, and by the time that Kurt arrived, the seat next to Blaine was taken. Kurt sat across the room, but caught Blaine's eye immediately.

The meeting began, but they may as well have been in a white, featureless room with only each other.

It was all shy smiles and blushes, and holding one another's gaze until one of them couldn't stand it anymore and had to look away for a moment, just to gather enough strength to look back.

It took more than a moment for them to realize that the room had gone silent.

"Blaine? Kurt?"

They both looked up, startled, and realized that everyone was looking at them, seeming to wait for some kind of response.

More than a few of their fellow Warblers wore looks of dawning comprehension.

"Um...I'm sorry, I'm afraid I didn't catch that," said Blaine. Kurt found himself unable to say anything at all.

Wes was wearing a smirk. "I was asking if you'd had an opportunity to practice your duet yet."

Kurt looked down at his lap, blushing to the tips of his ears, mortified.

Oh, they'd had the opportunity to  _practice,_  all right.

Blaine was able to maintain a bit more composure, though he was obviously flustered.

"Yes, we did a...a...dry run..."

Blaine's eyes went wide and he made a sort of half-choking, half coughing sound when he realized what he'd just said.

Kurt was simply staring at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock.

A  _dry run,_ Blaine? Seriously?

David was biting his lip to keep from laughing. Wes wasn't even trying to suppress it anymore.

Jeff, at least, had the presence of mind to be more interested in Regionals than the love lives of his fellow Warblers, and soon the arrangement for the backing vocals was coming together.

They practiced  _Candles._  Of course they did – and Kurt was surprised to realize that he hadn't even thought of the fact that that's what they'd be doing today. They didn't bother with  _Raise Your Glass-_  they'd had that one nailed down for awhile now, and they needed the duet to be perfect to stand a chance at Regionals.

And any Warbler who had been thick-headed enough to miss what was going on before was completely clued in by the end of the first run-through. Kurt and Blaine's chemistry was downright electric, and they sang like they were completely alone in the room, like they were the last two men on earth.

By the end of the fourth run, Jeff looked nervously back and forth between them.

"Uh, guys, that's...really great. But maybe you could, um...tone it down? Just – just a little bit?"

"Yeah, Blaine," Wes muttered just loud enough for Blaine to hear, "you can tear his clothes off later, OK? This is meant to be a family event."

Blaine glared, and Wes responded with a wide, innocent smile.

So they toned it down. A bit.

When rehearsal was over, Blaine walked up to Kurt and took his hand.

"Yes, okay?" Blaine snapped at David, who was wiggling his eyebrows as he walked by. "You figured it out. Congratulations. Your powers of deduction are breathtaking."

David just laughed and gave Blaine and Kurt each a squeeze on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Kurt couldn't help but laugh a little himself. The teasing was good-natured and kind of endearing, the duet was shaping up fabulously, and now the school day was finally,  _finally_ over.

It was the shortest evening of their lives.

They were lying on Blaine's bed, and staring into one another's eyes. They had been there for hours, talking and kissing and staring and smiling. They explored a bit – but only a bit. The outline of hips and backs and shoulders through their shirts, mouths straying down to collar bones but no further.

Well, unless one were to consider hands to be "further." Because Blaine kissed Kurt's knuckles and each of his fingers and the delicate pulse points at his wrists.

There was still blushing and nervous laughter, still bellies full of butterflies and the silent  _But what does this really mean for us? Does he feel the same way? Does it matter to him the way it matters to me?_ that both fervently, desperately wondered but were still too terrified to ask of the other.

But most of all,  _I wonder when I can tell him that I love him?_

They kissed slowly, lazily, savoring one another like something small and rich and rare and expensive.

And they kissed desperately, passionately, consuming one another as if the fate of the world depended on the intensity of the fire between them.

And just as they felt like they were really getting started, it was time to end.

Kurt looked at the alarm clock next to Blaine's bed. He sighed.

"I really hate clocks," he said.

"So do I," agreed Blaine, his head tucked under Kurt's chin, his fingers trailing light circles across Kurt's stomach.

"I have to go home."

"That's the most horrible thing you've ever said to me."

Kurt smiled. "It's just as horrible for me, you know, but if I miss curfew I won't even be able to see you this weekend."

Blaine sighed. "I suppose that's worse."

"I would think so."

Kurt closed his eyes. There was so much that he wanted to say, but all of it felt too big, too intense, to terrifying and vulnerable.

"I'm really happy about this, Blaine," was what he finally settled on. It felt measly next to  _I've been looking for you forever,_  but he wasn't brave enough to say more. Not yet.

And maybe he needed a little bit of time where Blaine's professions were stronger than his, just to even things out a bit, because he had wanted this for so,  _so_  long.

All Blaine heard was that Kurt was really happy about this. And it made his heart soar.

"Me too," Blaine murmured, breathing in the scent of him, savoring that last bit of Kurt that would have to last him until the next day.

"Ten minutes," Kurt said, looking at the clock one more time. "In ten minutes I  _really_ have to go."

"Mmmm," sighed Blaine, nestling against him even closer.

It was the shortest ten minutes of their lives.


End file.
